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McBish's Art?

Poetry counts as art.  Right.  I'd say so.  Though I don't know if mine really does.  But anyways I have started writing again.  After a night of drinking, well techinicaly during a night of drinking.  The only other time I did was for a creative writing coures.  I liked it but it was all bull spit pretty much.  Some of this stuff is good I think.  But I'd like to hear what you have to say about it.  So here goes.

I am in the hallway.
I have been kicked out of the room.
It is dark and all I can see is myself.
How disappointing. I am by myself once again.
Alone and in the dark.
I crawl through my feelings and find myself wanting more.
Some times I feel numb, but on the rare occasion I feel something it hurts.
Why is the only thing I truly feel is loneliness?
The questions pour into my head.
The snow falls around me but is not the reason for the chill running up my spine.
I cry out. The pain of life is something easily ignored.
We all feel it so what is there about it that is special.
What is it about you that is special?
What is it about me that is special?
What is it?
Why I am still stuck in this life? Why does the approach of life seem so far away?
I want to embrace you. I want to feel you.
But that is a lie.
I want to feel!
The use of an exclamation is not a lie.
I need to feel.
The numbness surrounds me and it pains me to feel...

But there you are.
Brothers and sisters.
You come around me and hug me.
But still I want more.
How selfish am I to want to feel more.
How selfish to feel that I am failing, that you are failing, because it is impossible to feel more.
The shiver is back.
The truth is almost out.
But do I know what I am saying.
Do I know who I am hurting?
Why now? Why can this only be said when I am in the dark, with the snow falling around me? Why?

Breath is hard to come by.
Yet it is so natural. It happens to us all everyday.
But right now I am without it.
My hands shake.
And my nerves tell me that I should stop.
But I know I need to say more.
I know there are words that need to be spoken.
But I can't find them.
I can't grasp them.
They are beyond me. They are outside of my experience.
Who can say these words for me? Is there a poet out there who feels as I feel?
Is their a playwright who can write me this dialogue?
Is there an author who can take my pain and make it a bestseller?

For the first time tears fall from my eyes.

3 spaces between me and you.
And that is why I am truly alone.
Will you cross the lines I have created? Will I find my courage and go to you?

I embrace.
I befriend.
I joke.
I laugh.
I say ok. But it isn't.

I cry, but not where it can be seen.
I push you away when I need you.
I hide behind my words.
I never know you, so you will never know me.

Some would say the best poetry comes from the mind of someone different.
Am I different.
Do you feel like I do, and hide it like I do?
As I sit here I know I am not special.
I know...

Death. It wraps around me.
I can't see it. I don't experience it.
But there it is, always a few steps away.

Now isn't the time for poetry.
My Mom is sick. And the only treatment will make her sicker.
Is that what makes me write these words.
Or is it something inside myself.
I am scared. What happens when these words escape me?
Will you think less of me? Will you walk on eggshells.

I ramble. I am sorry. And in apologizing I hate myself.

I am not in danger.
I am not hungry.
I am not insane.
I am not anything that would cause me to be unhappy.

But I am.

Not all the time.
When I am with you.
When I am surrounded by you all.
These times make me happy. These times make me forget.

But then I am alone.
Then I am in the darkness in the hall, with my head in my hands and tears in my eyes.
The snow falls around me and I can't help but cry, for despite it's beauty I am sad.
Do you see it.
Poets dance around it.
Playwrights expect you to understand it.
Authors state it in their words.
And we live it.

Every day of our life it is us.

Do you understand what I am talking about?

I love you.

And yet I can't say it to your face.
Yet I can't say it to myself.
A poem of pain.
A poem of Emo.

Will I hate myself for writing this?
Will it matter in the morning?
Will I have the courage to show you it?
WIll you have the courage to read it. And to see me?

A drunken rant.
A vision seen in the haze.
A story only half formed in the mind.
A dream of a person half asleep.

Is it me? Is it you?
Is this absurd? Will you laugh? Or Cry?

Are you any closer to understanding me?
Are you any closer to understanding yourself?

If not, fine. It doesn't matter.
I have said my piece. I have cried out to the darkness.
I will not be silent. I will not be scared.
No longer.

At least till morning.

There are times when the night last forever.
The stairs are a slide.
And the chairs are all upside down.

People come and go but there is no one is missed.
The food isn't important.
But the drinks are definitely fun.

We laugh, but we rarely cry
We hug, we cuddle.
And we roll around calling it dancing.

At least I do.

Then there is a movie that we can all laugh at.
But is forgotten within the first 5 minutes.
And here I am happy.

Thank you everyone.

The voices are all around me.
They fill my head.
But all the say is

I wish we all said nothing
I wish our words never touched anything
never touch each other
not our minds
not our hearts

But I know that isn't the truth
It is only my words that never touch anything.
I know there are words that do just that
Words others speak.

But what about my words.

You and I?
Are we now connected
In reading these words are we together?

I wish sometimes that we were.
But I know it isn't true.
My words held no meaning to long.
I have started to shake off the dust but it has been too long.

Too long since I have touched anything.
And now I am realizing how much you have all reached me.
How much you have changed me.
Better? Worse?
I hope for the first.

As I sit here I feel it.
I miss it.
I wish for it.

You read these words now.
Do you judge me.
Do you praise me.

Do you explain away these words.
Give them meaning that isn't there.
Do you explain me using these words?

I am more then these words.
These words can barely touch how I feel.
Because I barely know how I feel.

But I know this.
I like you.
I love you.
I wish you would never leave.
I hope we never do.

Me and you.
Can it work?
Will we work?

I don't know.
I am scared.

There is a song in my head.
But the tune isn't that of my heart.
I feel the feelings.
But the words are to far gone.

The chill is back.
I know this is the truth.
I know what is said should be said.

I know nothing about you.
I know that you know little about me.
Canl we learn.
Will this song we dance to end?

There is a shiiver.
There is a spin.
I wonder.
Does she know?
Does she wonder?

My arms
They want to hold you.
My legs go weak at the sight of you.
Will this pass.
Will we pass each other now in time.

The night is almost over.
The morning is coming soon.
The redundance of this sentence strikes me.
Will we pass each other now.
In this light so dim.

Will we be able to dance.
Will time stop for us?
Will I fall behind?

There are so many questions.
There are so few answers.
Will the writing of this hurt
or help?

I have said before
I don't care.
I will speak out.
I will sing at the darkness
I will shine in the silence

But I am scared.
The state I take myself to
It shows the truth.

Can I be true without it?
I don't know.

The tune is still there.
In my head.

Will you dance with me?

Will we be true together.

There is a time
there is a place

My stomach sinks
But my heart sings

I can only hope
this is our time
this is our place.


Three lines to fill the poem
But nothing comes to mind
Am I that dull.


A circle is drawn
In the sands of time

I follow the line
never noticing
the scenery never changes


Lost at sea
but no water in sight
just Faces
and Bodies
embracing and shoving
sneering and smiling

But I built myself a raft
I stay apart
Why don't I dive in.


This will be random

But if you know me
you get it
The dwarf chases the giraffe
eating a burrito

If you put in the time
you see the pattern
The jello rises
through the straw

There is insanity in my eyes
Do you not see it?


the paper is blank
the voices are mute

nothing is seen or heard

where did this void come from
whis is it here now

It is hard enough
walking through this maze
with signs on the walls
and guides at the crossroads
showed me the way


The morning is chill
Frost on the windows

I wake and graspe
for something not there

It has been too long.


The first drops of rain
hit my face
as I look up to the sky

I watch the crowd
scatter and take cover

I stay where I am
I always do

in the rain

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